My biggest fear is not losing control but being
trapped.The basis
for all fear is a perceived threatening activating event triggering anxiety
laden beliefs which result in a flight or fight reaction. Paradoxically, in behavioral terms when it comes to fear one always gets what one resists, meaning fear becomes it's own reinforcement. Being trapped is not
related to anything actually "out there" but rather how my mind
translates these events and is known as cleithrophobia.
"Cleithrophobia is a fear of being trapped or
locked in an enclosed space. The origin of the word is originally from the
Greek cleithro which means to shut or to close and the English phobia which
implies a persistent fear." -Wikipedia
In reality, I am not anxious or claustrophobic in
enclosed spaces, only the certain stifling situations I discern as preventing
easy escape (like my second marriage). When these events arise, my first response is to strategically
plan multiple avenues of flight. Obsessing about these schemes gives me a sense
of empowerment. The litany of this treadmill goes on ad nauseum causing me tremendous anguish. Because I am an introvert, my internalized dialogue appears
to the outside world like I am preoccupied. My external defense to all of this
is to be a highly regarded achiever; all of this while exhibiting a cheerful,
humorous mask which effectively disguises the torment within. From time to time
I verbalize some of my escapist flights of fancy to my friends, but they know I
have good impulse control which will quell any concrete plans coming into
fruition. Though I talk about my angst concerning my limitations, rarely do I
share the depth to how this affects me.
Last week I came face to face with some
predicaments which launched a cascade of cleithrophobia. It started innocently
enough by planning a vacation back to Minnesota to visit family and friends.
Since I had not been back there for five years, I began contacting everyone to
let them know I wanted to spend time with them. One of my friends I was
planning to see acknowledged she is dealing with the imminent death of her
sister from ovarian cancer. Her description of her sister’s dying was horrific.
As another intuitive thinker, I knew how despairing and devastated she felt. It
shook me to my core as well. Why? Not only could I sympathize with her nightmare, but I am also facing the looming
loss of three of my siblings from terminal illnesses.
One of the people I will also be visiting in
Minnesota is my oldest brother Steven, who is dying from end stage Parkinson’s
disease. We have never had a close relationship, but in recent years we have
been attempting to maintain closer communications. When I called him to tell
him about my visit, he said he was looking forward to meeting with me. He talked
about how his life has become more and more unmanageable due to the
debilitating ravages of his disease. For the first time, I could hear the
unmistakable death rattle in his voice. It was not just the content of what he
was saying but the tonal quality of how he articulated his decline.
Emotionally, it felt gut wrenching. This conversation generated a torrent of
feelings, thoughts, and memories about our familial history. Suddenly I felt
like me feet had just stepped into a big bear trap. But this was only the
beginning
.
.
Knowing I would soon have to come to terms with
him also made me realize there were two more impending deaths I had to handle.
My oldest sister is dying from an inoperable benign brain tumor and my youngest
brother is dying from t-cell hepatosplenic lymphoma. For years I just shoved my
feelings about my conflicted relationships with them into a nice shelf thinking
that I would not have to deal with them. I have not spoken with them for years.
I am uncertain how to even go about a resolving the years of hard feelings and
nursed hurts which solidified the division in our relationships. The bear trap
has now become tighter, gripping me with no place to flee.
I have experienced enough death in my life both
personally and professionally to understand the emotional process of grieving.
However, the loss of my siblings is completely new ground to me. Reviewing our
history together, I see the good, the bad, and the ugly of how each of my
siblings influenced me. Approaching their deaths is akin to having surgical
removal of parts in me that have internalized their traits. Psychologically, I
can no longer deny I will be unaffected by their deaths. Spiritually, I feel I
am being offered an opportunity to reconcile my external sibling relationships
with the internal aspects of them I have either accepted or rejected. Needless
to say, I am feeling fractured. The resulting emotions are a confusing mix of
helpless sadness, abject dread, grasping for comfort, and attachment to
anything that brings pleasure. In other words, I am trapped without my
traditional avenues of escape. There is nowhere left to run.
As someone with Buddhist leanings, my current
situation is calling for compassion, loving kindness, meditation, gentleness,
precision, and letting go. Can I become friends with my intense emotional grasping
and attachment and let them be without bolting for the familiarity of my evacuation
routes? Is there wisdom in no escape?
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